Portal for Writers and Poets in South Africa
There is beauty in getting older
we become so much bolder
free to be yourself
wisdom is now your wealth
courage …yourself to express
to age is to be blest
trying all things new
like a tree u grew
no need for acceptance
by those in your presence
dont succumb to views of old age
embrace in life this new stage
Always knew that I am a conqueror
I just never thought I could conquer many things as I did tonight
I was everybody’s hero
children were shocked while adults were occupied by anger and hostility
Nevertheless, as for me, it was the best night ever
A night of fulfillment’s and honor
That night I took all of my belongings and used them wisely
I did not mind spending and loosing
They called me the bad man while others called me superman
Everything I wore was scarlet and
All the memories I left behind was indelible
Believe me when I tell you about that night
cause I am the one who was in charge of everything
The world seemed to be on my side and
perfection is what I was living
That night I went to bed with a pure heart and smiles on my face
I slept like a new born baby with a mock in his mouth.
In the morning when I wake up, I expected to be tired
However, I was as smooth as a person who never did anything
Everything I had diminished like water in a form of vapor
Moreover, the world was ordinary as it always where.
What a wonderful dream!
Had i said no
would you let me go
and mourned my leaving
wanting me back – pleading
had i said no
would you at my door show
asking me to stay
love you would you say
had i said no
would i still fee low
or happy would i be
that you still wanted me
had i said no
i will never know
for i said yes
being your wife no less
Herne’s song
In broken light neath stars embrace,
Amid grass and stone see the old god’s face,
In hoary trunk of twisted tree, there is the one who is three.
Old in hand and heart and bone, voiceless whispers his final tone.
Once the green man of spring was he, singing, laughing running free.
Bud and blossom and then to fruit, at summers height and solstice night.
Oaken king he took the crown and brought the gift of Awen down.
Then winters king he took his turn, lean high hunter, mighty Herne.
Though his children call to him no more, still he sleeps in glade and forest floor.
An’ lo on night when moon shines bright, the horn it sounds and all hide from his sight
Forth the hunt to ride the sky, never fear only join or die.
Cauldron calls yet in olden hall, calling us come, ere the land at last must fall.
I am not an African
In fact I don’t like being an African
It’s so limiting
I am not an Indian
In fact i don’t like being an Indian
It’s so narrow
I am not even human
If being human means bekng limited
By definition
I am not my religion
it is so ancient
And sometimes not in a good way
I am not conjoined by race or creed
Not defined by race or greed
Of definition I have no need
I am not even myself
For that is selfish
In a fishy kind of way
I am not my consciousness
In an unconscious kind of way
I am not nothing
And I am not something
Not even everything
I am not a riddle
Or even an answer
and not a question
I am not my thoughts
Or what I am thought of
I am not this and certainly not that
Maybe one day I will learn how to let it all out
Open my heart and pour forth the contents
Maybe one day I will learn how to let go
Of the one I love so much
Maybe one day I will learn how to say goodbye
To the bittersweet memories of you
Maybe, just maybe one day
You need not to apologize for your beauty
Your dark injected cultured skin
Rubbed on it, smells herbal oil,
Puffed with cocoa dust,
Darkened toned chocolate legs
Twisted in a cat walk.
Head held up high
Up where exquisiteness flags
Swing their tails.
Reflection of confidence in your eyes
Should be emitted on the
Grass land your heels
Beat beats on.
Defined as your
Waists attracts attention
As it swings your tail side to side,
Curled curvatures pronounced
And respect your embodiment deserves,
Should be printed on your forehead.
Retailing and serving your
Art sculpture to vultures
Forfeits dignity to infinity.
Let real men unroll carpets,
For you deserve not to lie in caskets
And let a penny drive you.
Let no adjectives switch lights off for you.
Let your emotions dance courage songs
In gardens of high esteem.
Let no corner whistles
Prescribe definitions for you
Let no external appearance
Deceive you.
Your voice should tune
Heritage songs to African ears,
Not to shout in modern streets
With a stoned body guys take out tongues for.
Your hands should restore the nation,
Not to slide in men’s pockets, grabbing
High quality hard-pronounced liquor,
Blocking bullets and wiping bitter tears.
An African sister.
You deserve better.
Hartseer vul my lewe
Soos trane jou oe
My liefde ek’t jou verloor
Jou soet stem vul
my gedagtes met musiek
Ek vra vir nog net een vliek
Die golwe van die see
jou n afstand ver geneem
Nou is als so vreemd
Die blou kamer muur
jou oe se ewige staar
Is jy dan regtig klaar
n Kombers van stilte
vul die eens se gelag
My liefie jy’t belowe jy sou wag
When i wake i see u
my heart starts paining
my eyes moist like dew
any ounce of joy waning
i met u once
yet you still haunt me
we only spoke once
that meeting destroyed me
for i dont forget you
i cant move forward
your’e no ghost thats true
but by you i’m haunted
if only you’d leave my thoughts
for there you dwell
another mothers daughters
for you make living hell
Yesterday felt like any other day
With the sun smiling right through my face
The waves of the sea moving high and low
And the wheezing wind moving south to north
The cage was open for me to fly free
But my broken wing wouldn’t allow me
Forbidden freedom was towards me
And accepted wisdom was against me
But today is not yesterday
Today does not feel like any other day
Today I cut loose all obtacles in my way
Yes, I move forward with my broken wing, today
They said that it is impossible to fly with a single wing
I say it is possible, if you believe
Today I am walking against forbidded freedom
Today I am running towards accepted wisdom
Yes, today, I am flying with my broken wing.
